


Taking A Bite of Something Sweet

by ThatDarnLakeSiren



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst, Awkward Wilson is awkward, Biting, Blood Drinking, Blood and Injury, But people call him by both names, Clarifying that to clear up any confusion, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Maxwell is just Williams stagename at thie point, Myths proven false, Rumors proven false, Sickfic, Starvation, Suicidal Thoughts, Thunderstorms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-16 23:00:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20610782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatDarnLakeSiren/pseuds/ThatDarnLakeSiren
Summary: While exploring a new city after a successful show, William Carter (The Amazing Maxwell!) runs into a rather sickly looking gentleman. After offering the clearly unwell fellow his assistance, the magician soon learns that he's made a huge mistake... For Wilson P. Higgsbury is more than just a gentleman scientist that's under the weather... how dearly will poor William have to pay, for bringing a hungry vampire out of the rain?





	1. Free Sample From the Candy Shoppe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cumputer_glitches](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cumputer_glitches/gifts).

> Really gotta thank Glitch for this story. I proposed the idea bit was doubtful... and after they offered to write a similar story my competitive drive won out and I got my first chapter done. So, thanks Void!

Lying in a cheap hotel bed, sprawled over a very delirious vampire, blood clinging to his throat and wrist, William wondered how the hell he had wound up in this very undesirable position.

It had started innocently enough.

William had spotted the the gentleman, a short--but by no means _light_\--fellow in a red vest and dark slacks in a bar after a successful show at the theatre a few blocks away. The gentleman was nursing a cup of something strong, keeping to himself, not really socializing with anyone else. Instead he was sat in a corner, nervously glancing around at the other patrons as he took tiny sips of his drink. At the time, William had decided to go say hello, curious about the gentleman in with the W-shaped hair.

The interaction hadn't been... unpleasant, but the William did learn a few things in fairly short order; the mans nane was Wilson P. Higgsbury, he was a scientist, and he was utterly lost in this city. That was all William could get out of the man verbally, as a slur and persistent mumble prevented him from understanding anything else the scientist said. At a casual glance however, anyone could see that Mr. Higgsbury was pale, eyes glassy, and his hands were beginning to shake so badly that he risked dropping his glass. 

When William asked if the scientist was feeling well, the man had given a half-hearted shrug. William had then asked if Mr. Higgsbury had anywhere he was staying, and the scientist shook his head again. William had then suggested that Wilson come with him to his hotel; he was fairly certain that the place had some rooms open, and the rates were cheap, he'd promised. 

"Nuh... no." Wilson had mumbled, huddling in on himself with a wince. "But th-thank you."

William had sputtered, surprised, and Wilson met his gaze then, for the first time since they'd met. He was exhausted, eyes glassy, as he struggled to say the words beyond a mumble, "I wuh... was m-m-mugged." With trembling hands he pulled out a waterlogged wallet from his back pocket, turned it upside down and shook it for emphasis. Out dropped a few measly coins, plinking loudly on the floor. Wilson had scrambled to grab them, muttering to himself, but then he struggled to rise back to his feet, pressing a hand to his forehead as he swayed dizzily.

"...how about... you stay with me? I've got a bed you can use to rest up in. The hotel charges by the room and the night, not by the person." William surprised himself with the offer, and maybe he was being a little too trusting of someone he just met, but he felt for the poor fellow. In a foreign place all alone, sick and penniless... he'd had a streak of poor luck. 

"N-no, thank you, but-but I'd hate to impose--" Wilson protests, looking somewhat mortified.

"Its-its no problem, pal." William rushed to reassure him, laying a hand on Wilson's shoulder to steady him as he stumbled. "I'm offering, and I wouldn't do that if I didn't mean it." 

The short scientist chewed on his lip, indecision on his face, but he finally nodded, head dropping in defeat. 

With some help from William to regain his footing, Wilson had tottered out of the pub at Williams heels, without a word. Thankfully the hotel William was staying in was only a few blocks further away, but unfortunately it had begun to rain. The downpour was unexpected and unwanted, prompting William to quicken his pace. He grimaced, his glasses speckled with droplets, hindering his vision. He tugged them off and wiped them on the hem of his suit, but the action was in vain. His vision would be choked and distorted by rain until he got inside. 

However, he soon realized that his unexpected companion wasn't with him any longer, the echo of footsteps gone. William paused and scanned the street, looking up and down the wet pavement. He soon spotted Wilson, his red vest stark against the dark brick. William hastened over, looking the scientist over to try and figure out why he had stopped.

Shivering fitfully in the rain and struggling to keep up with the magicians long strides and longer legs, Wilson was huddled within the doorway of a closed boutique, and arms wrapped tight about himself in a vain effort to get warm. He looked worse than before, cheeks red and hair dropped about his face from the rain.

William had offered the other his coat when he was near enough to be heard over the downpour, then rather more forcefully than he wanted, dragged Wilson back out into the rain despite whined protests. They made it to the hotel in one piece, with William half-guiding and half-carrying the sopping wet gentleman. Thankfully, no one was attending the front desk to question him and William had his key, so he hurried Wilson to the room as quickly as he could.

The poor fellow had been teetering at the edge of delirium, not understanding where he was or who William was by the time the magician had wrestled him out of his wet things and into some spare night clothes the magician had. But Wilson was too weak to fight or argue when William settled him in the rooms only bed, falling asleep after a few minutes of weak squirming. 

In his hurry to help the man get dry and into warm clothes, William did not miss the dark wreath of bruises on Wilson's back, the mark of rough hands on his person already fading, a healing cut marring his shoulder, dangerously close to the gentleman's throat. It was all a few days old at least, holding true to Wilson's story of being mugged.

At the time, William hoped the poor fellow was alright, and hung up Wilson's things in the bathrooms tub to dry. Grabbing some spare blankets, he made a nest on the floor by the rooms single large window and tried to get comfortable enough to fall asleep.

A handful of hours later, a thump and weak cry jolted William awake. He blinked blearily in the low light, a streetlight outside casting indirect luminescence upon the room. William sat up, rubbing his eyes, and fumbled for his glasses.

Wilson was sprawled on the floor, whimpering and holding his face, hiding it as he twisted fitfully, legs entangled in the sheets.

"Wilson?" William stood and hurried over, crouching beside the gentleman. He looked unnaturally pale in the semi darkness, and when William touched his forehead, he was cold. "Are you alright, pal?"

Wilson didn't answer, just leaned into Williams touch, keening weakly. His breathing was weak, lungs heaving in great huge breaths, but he was gasping, struggling to draw in enough air.

Uncertain what to do, William hauled Wilson back into the bed, leaning over him to pull the displaced blankets back over the gentleman. Sleep had been chased from the Magicians mind; Wilson was getting worse and needed a doctor. William would need to ask the front desk if there was anyone nearby who practised medicine, but for the moment he tried to focus on getting Wilson comfortable. 

Wilson shifted, suddenly, eyes wide and reflective in the darkness as he latched weakly onto Williams arm. "Nnn... nuh... no..." he whimpered, struggling to pull William closer, or maybe, to push him away. He didn't sound like he was fully there, grappling with reality like one would a broken life jacket. "D-don't... g-g-go...! _Go_!"

William felt something in his chest twist uncomfortably, and hesitantly let Wilson pull him onto the bed. He sat beside the sick gentleman, and let Wilson drag and position his large hand until pressed to the Scientists face. The shorter mans hands and face were ice-cold, which would have concerned William more if lips didn't press to his wrist. Face heating up and heart slipping a beat, he coughed softly, trying to pull away without hurting the shorter man. Wilson made a noise somewhere between a growl and a sob before a sharp pain dug deep into Williams arm.

William yelped, trying to pull away, gazing down in shock at Wilson, he was still biting him and hadn't relinquished his tight-jawed grasp. Blood flowed hot and wet from Williams wrist and something pricked up his arm beneath the skin and he snapped out of whatever shock or daze he'd fallen into, digging the fingers of his free hand into Wilson's mouth and forcing his jaws open, jerking his hand free.

Clutching his bleeding wrist to his chest, struggling to determine how bad the wound was, a soft sob met William's ears. He looked down at Wilson, who was crying weakly, licking at his lips in disgust and struggling to push himself into a sitting position. William was torn on what to do, but it was growing difficult to move... he felt heavy, that itch in his bitten arm turning to a hot burst of fire, snaking through his body and leaving him feeling fuzzy and numb. William tried to stand but couldn't manage, the room spinning dizzily around him.

He collapsed against the bed, against Wilson, a sharp, sudden exhale of breath in his ear telling him he'd fallen directly on top of the smaller gentleman.

Wilson sputtered and coughed weakly, struggling to breathe beneath Williams bulk. William couldn't move, could barely think straight, unable to put together whether he should feel alarmed at Wilson's actions, worried for his own health, or concerned for how delirious the gentleman had become.

William continued to struggle with his thoughts, trying and unable to move, body warm and heavy and tired, senses dulled. He was only dimly aware of quiet crying and earm lips pressed to his neck, followed shortly after by a faint pinching sensation. A weak, desperate moan met his ears, hot liquid draining down his neck and throat, then cold lips closed over the wound, suckling weakly. 

William lost all track of time after that, only a faint sensation of a weakly fluttering warmth beneath him cutting through the growing, pervading numbness in his body...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!! We've got some lovely fanart from @atlasio! Please go check it out, its bloody amazing!
> 
> https://imgur.com/a/yWvkOCC


	2. Warning: May Contain Trace Amounts of Angst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Wilson... there is a lot of crying in this chapter
> 
> I would like to thank "Br4v3b1rd (Les)" for chatting with me and helping me brainstorm some ideas for this chapter. Thanks for your help mate!

William woke to the sun streaming in through the window, a small, warm body pinned beneath his own, and something itchy and unpleasant crusted to the skin of his neck and arm. Alarm stirred, but he couldn't pinpoint why or where that creeping sensation of anxiety and fear was coming from.

Initially, he couldn't figure out what had happened, thoughts muddled. But piece by piece memories of the day before trickled back in. The gentleman scientist, how unwell he was, the offer of sharing a room... how much worse Wilson grew in a few short hours, his delirium and the unnatural cold of his flesh. 

William jolted into action, limbs heavy and uncooperative as he struggled to put distance between himself and the body he was sprawled over, fear and the need to _get away_ overwhelming his senses. Because he remembered, through the haze of fire and numbness spreading through his veins, that he had been bitten. Once on the wrist and again on his neck. But now, he felt heavy, weak, and couldn't lift himself more than a few inches before he fell heavily to the bed again.

A weak wheeze met his ear, the smaller man trapped beneath him struggling to breathe beneath William's bulk. Unbidden, concern clawed at him, needled at him that he was crushing the poor sod beneath his weight, but William was too woozy and too weak to move himself. 

"Oh... god... " William mumbled, blinking open his eyes, then shutting them, wincing as the room spun dizzily.

Wilson shifted beneath him, and fear bloomed out, squeezing his heart. He braced himself for pain, waiting to he bitten again by this madman, but nothing happened. If anything, the shorter man was struggling to avoid touching his throat, trying to free himself. A soft sob, loud in Williams ear as small hands braced and pushed at his shoulder, determined but kitten-weak, gradually falling to stillness as the efforts proved fruitless.

"I-I-I'm s-s-s-, s-_sorry_!" The words came out choked, broken, sincere and guilt-ridden. Wilson was crying, doing little more than breathing weakly beneath William, breaths hitching as he struggled to force the words out, "I-I-I tried! I d-didn't w-w-want to h-h-h-hurt anyone e-else! N-no one w-w-was supposed t-t-to b-be s-s-s-so, s-so k-_kind!_ N-not t-to me... n-n-not to a m-m-_monster_..."

And that twisted something in William's chest, confusion and concern besting out fear in his dizzy state. There was so much pain and self-loathing built up in the shorter man, anxiety and fear and guilt and a sort of bone-deep, soul-deep exhaustion that felt... dangerous. Not to anyone else, and certainly not dangerous for William, but dangerous for _Wilson_. Dangerous in a way that William couldn't quite place, couldn't quite name, but it pushed him into action. Or, what little action he could muster in his weakened state. 

Tentatively, carefully as William could manage with his numb, clumsy fingers, he pushed himself off of Wilson. He nearly slid off the bed, would have if Wilson hadn't latched onto his suit with a wheezing cry of alarm. It wasn't much, but it steadied William enough for him to regain some poor semblance of balance. He flopped onto his back, shutting his eyes against the dizziness that had flooded him, overwhelming as the room spun in nauseating ways around him.

Wilson huffed and panted beside him, finally able to take deep breaths without Williams bulk crushing him. And the magician felt a twist of guilt in his gut, realizing that he had, albeit unintentionally, been slowly suffocating the scientist. Or at least, hindered his breathing.

After a few minutes, when Williams dizziness had mostly subsided and Wilson's breathing had steadied somewhat, the magician asks,

"Why?" A confused sound, little more than a puff of air is his only reply, so William clarifies, "Why do you believe yourself a monster? You're just a man, just like me, and you aren't well. You bit me in your delirium, nothing more."

Silence. A hitched breath. Then, a muffled, "I-I... I was h... _hungry_."

The words came out forced, hurried, horrified and guilty, and when William managed to look over, Wilson was crying quietly, hiding his face in his hands.

Something from the night before surfaced in William's mind... the pinch at his throat, like a needle... he felt there, carefully, but he couldn't pick out a wound, only found a spot that ached like a bruise when he pressed on it. And it occurred to him suddenly that human teeth couldn't draw blood very easily, and that Wilson's grip had been weak and fairly easy to break. To have managed to draw blood at all... his teeth had to be... unnaturally sharp. Or... or perhaps... 

William swallowed weakly, feeling his heart beat a little faster, fear creeping in slowly.

...supernaturally ...sharp. And off the top of his head only one thing really fit. Sharp teeth, drank the blood of humans... was... was Wilson, the gentleman scientist, a vampire?!

It fit, but poorly, like an mismatched puzzle piece. 

"...why me, then?" William asks, carefully, anxiety creeping in. He wasn't strong enough to fight Wilson off should the vampiric gentleman choose to attack him, but that felt all kinds of wrong. Wilson was too weak to even move the magician off of him, and his neck was out of reach of those sharp fangs regardless. 

"...wuh... what?" Wilson mumbled, confusion tinging his breath. 

"Why me? I'm taller and str-stronger than you are." William desperately hoped so, at least; vampires were said to be supernaturally strong, but Wilson was a poor example. "Hardly an easy target if you were out hunting for your supper."

A hitched breath, then, "I w-w-wasn't... I-I... I hadn't... w-w-_wanted_ to g-go with you... o-or a-anyone... e-else..."

William frowned; Wilson didn't sound entirely there, falling back into delirium. Which was alarming, and concerning, but... this meant he was less guarded with his answers... and much more likely to be telling the truth.

"Then why bite me?" William bullies on, trying to sound almost angry. He regretted his falsely harsh words the moment they left his mouth.

Wilson was curling away from him, full-on sobbing, gibbering and slurring on about the rain and being mugged and being so hungry and not meaning to,_ I didn't mean to, I didn't **want** to, I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry just **kill me** and b-be done with it I'm sorry I--!_

_"I am n-nothing but a **monster**."_

And William didn't know what to do, or how to react, guilt and horror tearing at his gut as Wilson sobbed out his apologies and begged for William to kill him. To kill him, because he had done something terroble and regretted, and didn't believe he deserved mercy or forgiveness.

William wondered, suddenly, at what would have happened if he hadn't offered Wilson a place to stay out of the rain. He had been sick, no, _starving_, and attempting to drink something strong. Would... would Wilson have wandered out into the rain, drunk and weak, and collapsed somewhere? All alone?? He was... so cold last night, so weak, struggling just to _breathe_.

Dying, William realized. Wilson had been dying. And... it sounded like he had known. Nor did it sound like he cared overmuch about it. No... no, it sounded like he had been _counting_ on it. He hadn't anticipated William's kindness nor his insistence, and felt guilty for what he had done.

Without thinking it through, William shifted and put his arm over Wilson's side. The shorter man stilled, sobbed apologies stuttering to a halt as the magician slowly rubbed his back. 

"Calm down, pal. I'm not mad. And I-I sure as anything am _not_ going to kill you." William does his best to be soothing and calm, not ceasing the slow, circular movements. "...you made a mistake... everyone does... and I'm forgiving you for it... and I'm not going to kill you, or let you die."

Wilson's breath stuttered, and he weakly turned himself over. He was in disbelief and shock at William's words, eyes wide and overflowing with tears, the pupils dilated strangely... thin, cat-like in nature. William had already retracted his hand, but hesitantly reached out again, lightly squeezing Wilson's shoulder.

"I mean it. I'm not angry. I forgive you." He repeats, pushing as much sincerity into the words as he could muster and pushing out any trace of doubt or anxiety he had. Act, it was always an act. Most awkward man alive when around folks, but put him on a stage and he could cast it all away. (Why was ge like this).

Wilson's face scrunched up and he started crying again, but there was something distinctly different... while the sense of self-loathing wasn't gone, per-say, the hopelessness had been stripped away, at least by a little bit.

William really wasn't sure how to react, less so when Wilson pulled himself closer and hid his face in Williams thin chest, still bawling his eyes out. The magician hesitantly hugs him, rubbing his back with slow motions and muttering nonsense in hope's of reassuring the distraught, hurting man.

After several minutes of this, Wilson quieted, and when William withdrew slightly, he realized the other was asleep. Passed out, more likely, exhausted by... everything they had occurred.

William shifted slightly, finding that, despite a lingering dizziness, the strange heaviness of his body had abated. He recovered his glasses and slowly sat up, wincing as a dull ache crawled down his spine. No doubt because of the awkward way he'd slept last night. His face heated up, embarrassed, when he realized he'd slept on top of the small gentleman. William desperately rationalizes that it was alright, that he had passed out, that it didn't mean anything...

He needed a plan... he had promised to keep Wilson alive, but... William shook his head, anxiety creeping through his chest. It couldn't be too difficult... right? Vampire or not, Wilson didn't deserve to die... and he wasn't the monster that folklore made vampires out to be... that Wilson believed he was...

Maybe Wolson could still eat regular food. Maybe blood was a last resort. If he had been mugged several days ago, then it was no wonder he had almost starved to death. If William got some real food into him, maybe it would be enough to get him back in his feet...

Maybe.

William looked to Wilson, trying to take stock of his condition. 

While still pale, he didn't quite look sick anymore. Wilsons' breathing was even; he was no longer struggling for air or shivering uncontrollably. But there was an aura of weakness about the man, of sickness. It was... pitiful really, how he just laid there, breathing a little too shallow but otherwise stable.

While still uncertain, William finally decided on a course of action. He slowly stood, wincing at a rush of dizziness away, then cast a last glance at the sleeping vampire.

"I am... going to go shower and then I'm going to get some food. You're staying here and we're going to talk about... _this_ when I get back." William tried to make his voice sound confident, and was somewhat worried when Wilson didn't react or respond. 

Giving a nod, for his own benefit more then anything, William went and took a shower, washing off the blood that stuck to his flesh. There were bitemarks on his wrist, and two small incisions, like he had nicked himself on something sharp, but the wounds were shallow. He could find nothing on his throat, but it was sore, and when he checked in the mirror after his shower, it had bruised. He felt his face flush; it looked like a hickey. He'd have to cover it up somehow... did he have any scarves?? It was certainly cold enough out for it...

When he exited the bathroom, Wilson was still curled up on the bed in a little ball. William hesitated, wondering if he should wake him, then decided against it, leaving the room and locking the door behind him.

William would let the gentleman rest, for now.


End file.
